


What we want

by dragon_rider



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Safewords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:52:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But I wanted to please you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt, "Adam panics and uses his safeword during sex and feels bad (crying????), but Blake is sweet and tells him that he has to use it if he feels at all uncomfortable."

Adam takes off his clothes slowly, exhilaration coursing through him as if it were the very first time he waited for Blake to come home and  take him, to come home and do with him whatever he wants.

It’s not often that this happens; Blake texting him without his usual bantering and simply telling him where he wanted him and how. It always turns him on so much it’s a feat to get through the day like that if it’s early and Blake is quite fond of anticipation so the last ten hours? Adam has spent almost every second of them horny and giddy with eagerness.

He does know how to behave. He’s always been good to Blake, hasn’t safeworded his way out of any scene together ever. He’s pretty proud of that, almost as much as he is touched by how often Blake takes the time to check things are okay and that he’s not asking too much out of him, checking his safeword at least once every couple of weeks and rewarding him in the most pleasant, thoughtful ways.

Adam has never felt so at ease with someone else and this kind of trust scares the shit out of him sometimes. It’s just mind-boggling to know you’d let yourself go completely, with no reservations, that you’d hand yourself over leaving nothing for you as insurance, that you’d allow someone to take you apart and either put you back together or leave you there, destroyed and damaged beyond measure, that it’d be all up to _them_ , that there’d be no ounce of control left for you to protect yourself with.

But the fear is part of the fun, of the thrill. He wouldn’t change it for anything and he’s confident in his ability to handle it, to not let it control him instead of Blake. He’s had a handful of occasions in which he’s been on the verge of using his safeword but has always been able to breathe through the fear.

Today will be no different, he thinks, and lets his boxers pool with the rest of his clothes besides Blake’s couch.

He kneels, indulges in digging his fingertips into his thighs for the shortest of moments and crosses his wrists behind his back, waiting for Blake right in front of the door, eyes closed and head bowed in the quietest, sweetest show of submission he’s capable of.

***

When the door opens, the keys fall to the floor with a loud clack.

Adam’s heart stars pounding, a wild thing trapped in the cage of his bones, and he can’t even hear the door closing, his senses zeroing completely on Blake and how he sucks in a breath before hauling him to his feet with a hand around his nape and kissing him hard enough to sting.

It’s clearly been a long, lousy day for him. He’s not usually this hasty and rough but Adam holds himself pliant and meek and doesn’t make a sound, not even when Blake’s free hand leaves an imprint of every finger on the pale, smooth planes of his ass with the force of his grip on him.

He kisses him back, intensity just a hair shy of reaching Blake’s levels of urgency, and waits to be allowed to do more; to touch and cling and pull like he wants.

But tonight it’s not about what he wants. Blake needs this—needs him, he amends, and he’ll wonder later if that’s too optimistic of a thought to have—and Adam is here for him and will give him anything he needs to make him feel better.

“Look at me,” comes the throaty command five minutes too late for Adam’s taste, comes only when the air is smothering hot and lacking in his lungs.

It’s a punch in the gut. He’s never seen Blake this desperate, blue eyes feverish bright and wide, face red with something other than arousal.

Adam aches to reach out, fingers twitching to touch and caress and soothe, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t even plead to be given permission, sensing that’s not what Blake wants at all.

Comfort is for the afterglow; it’s for when Blake is tired enough that he lets it happen and doesn’t feel emasculated for receiving it. It’s not the first time Blake has gotten bad news and Adam remembers this but it’s still so absurd, that it’s so easy for Blake to fuck his brains out but so hard for him to accept Adam’s concern and love for him because that turns him into too much of a pussy, apparently, too much of a fag for him to be comfortable in their relationship and they’ve come this far taking baby steps, they haven’t gotten here with Adam pushing and throwing a tantrum over things Blake can’t help, over things they need to work on together if _they_ ever want to work at all.

His eyes prickle with frustration but he holds still.

“Bring the vodka,” Blake orders next, fingertips prodding Adam’s kiss-swollen mouth open after tracing it with pressure that’s in the wrong side of too much, “I have plans for you, Adam.”

Adam complies. He doesn’t make a habit of running naked—and his excitement about their night together suffered a big blow with the nagging presence of Blake’s gloom with them—but he does this time, doesn’t grab glasses because they won’t be needing those but he does grab the salt and smidgens his lips with it before hurrying back.

Blake is not sitting down on the bed like he thought he would. He’s giving Adam his back when he utters, “Eyes closed now,” and Adam has to stumble the rest of the way in. He’s not very good at keeping his balance like this yet, least of all when there’s an ugly feeling churning in his gut, but he does.

 _Trust_ , he thinks, and yet his heart beats rhythms of hesitation through him and wants to shy away. Blake takes a big gulp straight from the bottle and kisses him just then, just in the right moment like he always does, and anchors him to the present, licks the salt while holding Adam’s head in place with just one finger under his chin.

Adam feels his erection coming back quickly, knees going weak with the force of Blake’s lust for him, and almost can’t stifle the moan that pushes out of him when Blake flushes him to his clothed body with a broad palm on the small of his back.

Blake is so hard against him, so hot even through the layers and so frantic. He’s fucking _trembling_ and Adam wants to scream with how much he wants to touch him to make it stop, to calm him down. He bites his bottom lip to stop himself from begging and drops to his knees again when a hand grips his shoulder and pushes down.

There are boots walking away from him. He hears Blake taking another swing and then another, and another, then he settles it down and opens a zip that isn’t from his trousers. Adam strains to hear what happens next but the rustle of fabric is unfamiliar to him. He doesn’t understand what’s going on but he has enough of a brain to guess they must be ropes of some kind.

He takes a deep breath and squashes the soar of fear in the pit of his stomach. They’ve done this before. Blake has tied him up to the bed, even by the ankles one time. He can do this. As long as Blake touches him—as long as his hands or his mouth are on him, Adam can do this.

When Blake is done with whatever it is he’s doing, he comes back to him and blindfolds him. Adam feels mildly insulted by the implication of him not being able to keep his eyes shut without it but says nothing, simply tipping his forehead down so his lover can secure it to the back of his head better.

There are no reminder of safewords today and no more kisses.

Blake tosses him more than carries him on his shoulder and Adam can’t keep quiet anymore. He gasps when he’s pushed horizontally through thick ropes until his head pops in the other end and they dig into his shoulders, more ropes wrapped tightly around his chest all the way down to his hipbones, arms locked in the position he’s been holding them all along behind his back.

He has the ridiculous notion of whispering _yellow_ even though they’ve agreed not to use that system but he almost fucking loses it when Blake lets go of him and he’s _hanging_ there face down, legs kicking but reaching and touching nothing.

He barely swallows the only stop button that he has—his safeword—and feels hot tears springing from his eyes, drowning in the dark cloth over them, making it stick to Adam’s face like glue and increasing the panic that’s bubbling inside him because of the crushing restraint.

Minutes tick away. Adam hears the telltale whoosh of Blake unzipping his pants, the obscene noises of his fist coating his cock with lube and lazily jerking himself off while he watches his fill of the pornographic picture Adam must be in that moment.

It’s a challenge to focus on his breathing when all he’s able to do is bite back moans and cry as silently as he can but he tries to anyway.

He feels like disappointing Blake tonight of all nights would be unforgivable, that it would be a deal breaker not only of the scenes they engage in every now and then but of the freshly formed and frankly fragile relationship they have.

So he hangs on—quite literally—and tells himself everything will be better once Blake touches him again, that he’ll stop being soft and crying like a stupid fucking wimp as soon as Blake’s hands are on him even if it’s only to grip his hips while they fuck.

But Blake doesn’t. Adam could’ve recoiled and jumped half out of his skin at feeling something cold and wet on the small of his back but the ropes prevent him from it and when he hears Blake slurping he gets on with the program and arches his back to give him more room to takes his shots from.

The brush of his tongue on Adam’s skin isn’t enough to soothe him and neither is his chin, rough with stubble against the swell of his ass cheeks while he drinks. The tease and the burn aren’t enough and yet Adam holds on.

There’s not even hoarse praise for him tonight in the intoxicating drawl of his lover. That would help him to focus and relax too, not as much as Blake’s big hands on him, but it would and without it—without anything—Adam feels his resolve withering away, his body turning to dust at the edges and fading, only his heart left behind to remind him of this thing he must absolutely do for Blake—for his love—but at the same time drumming _you can’t_ _you’re failing he’ll leave you_ loud enough that it’s all he can hear, all he can think.

The tears are slipping out of the blindfold now, tickling down his cheeks and chin to drip on the floor.

When Blake is done drinking, he moves something and Adam’s feet are suddenly back on something solid. But it’s short-lived relief; he’s nudging between Adam’s legs, pushing inside of him with some resistance because Adam is the farthest away from excited and relaxed as he’s ever been and three of his fingers aren’t enough prep for Blake’s girth, and then he’s ordering him to put his legs around him and Adam does, supple but shaky, and gasps again when Blake is fully sheathed, the whole contact he has with him limited to the hard length in him.

It’s not enough but he hangs in there, still hoping for a hand—a finger, even—when Blake starts pounding into him. There will be something, he assures himself, _this_ will not be it. It can’t be.

But it is.

Blake isn’t shuddering anymore, Adam notices absentmindedly, and his thrusts are deep and as steady as they can be with Adam bouncing off and on him with the momentum of the ropes and no hold to help him stay in place.

Some brush his prostrate. Not even then Adam gets hard again, only dizzy with a fear that clutches more at him with each second that passes without Blake’s touch or his voice—the lone grunt here and there that Adam picks up isn’t enough, it just _isn’t_ —to anchor him to the experience.

Blake… he’s… he’s doing better, right? Better than when he arrived?

If Adam lets go now, will he hate him?

The only one that has enough is Adam’s heart. It gives up and so does he.

“Telescope,” he hiccups, “Telescope, telescope, _telescope_ —“

The ropes and blindfold are off of him in a whirlwind of movement. Swiftly, he’s freed and lowered to the ground, Blake’s hands finally on him as he cradles him to his chest and shushes him tenderly in such a juxtaposition of what he was doing that Adam can only cry louder and scramble to hold on to him, finding solace in the cocoon Blake’s bigger frame creates around him, warm and solid and impossibly forgiving.

“I’m sorry,” Adam mutters, ashamed, tucking his head in Blake’s chin and rubbing his nose against his collarbone, breathing him in through the damp fabric of his shirt, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Blake spends long minutes kissing the crown of his head, carding his fingers through his short hair, and only when Adam is panting a little less hysterically does he speak, hand firm on the back of Adam’s head and lips shaping the words against his forehead.

“You have nothing to apologize for, darling,” he says, his other hand tracing Adam’s spine softly, hypnotizingly, up and down and up again, “Nothing. Not even for not using your safe word sooner, as much as I would’ve liked you to.”  
“But,” Adam’s breath hitches, breaking a feeble sob in two, “You wanted—and I—I couldn’t.“  
“It’s not only about what I want, Adam, you know that,” Blake reassures, gentle and patient despite of Adam’s unending weeping, “It’s about what you want too. You don’t wanna do it, we stop, simple as that.”  
“But I wanted to please you,” Adam forces out, face pinched, one hand trying unsuccessfully to cover it from view.  
Blake pries it from his face, kisses every knuckle and smiles at him. “You always do, honey, and so beautifully. I’m so lucky to have you.”

The surprise cuts Adam’s crying off. He hitches another breath, long and ragged, and fixes Blake with an awed, confused look.

“I’m not mad at you, Adam,” Blake soothes, shutting the question Adam wanted to utter with a slow glide of lips on lips, “Next time, I want you to safe word the minute you’re even slightly uncomfortable, can you promise me that?”

Adam can’t, not really, but he uncoils considerably and takes Blake’s bottom lip between his in a reverent kiss.

“I’ll be okay as long as you’re touching me,” he promises, “As long as you’re talking to me, I’ll do anything you want.”

His lover blinks, eyes softening even more in understanding, and guides Adam’s still shaking fingers to unbutton his shirt so he can burrow directly into his skin.

When Adam breathes his first uninterrupted sigh, Blake picks him up and deposits him gently on the bed.

He takes the ropes hanging from the roof and throws them in his closet, closing the door and undressing at last to return to Adam’s side.

Adam feels a bit of his boldness returning too and turns around, wrapping his arms around Blake’s middle, pressing a kiss to his neck and entwining a leg with his.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

His voice is soft, his question unassuming.

Still, Blake tenses against him.

But he replies and that’s all the hope Adam needs to believe in this, in them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, Miranda and Blake were taking a break.
> 
> It's a permanent break now.

“She wants us to get back together,” Blake says.

It isn’t Adam’s response what helps him to finally make a decision after hours of brooding.

It’s the expression on his face; Adam is pale and horrified, his eyes fixed on Blake’s as if trying to lock him in place by his side, tears of sharp fear threatening to spill out.

“Do you—“ his lithe, giving lover stutters in his arms, “Do you want to?”

It’s probably more than a bit selfish and fucked-up but Blake resolves to stay with the person who reacts more strongly to the idea of losing him and that’s not Miranda.

It’s Adam.

He caresses Adam’s smooth cheek and smiles, his thumb softly pressing on Adam’s lashes until his eyes flutter close and he sighs into Blake's palm.

Blake could stare at him like this—trusting and loving and undemanding—for hours, days even. Chances are he still wouldn’t know what exactly he feels for Adam but at least he’s willing to feel it if not to give it a name yet and that’s more than he thought he was ever going to be able to do.

“No,” he assures, his voice pitched low and intimate as he brushes Adam’s lips, his accent thick with emotion, “I picked you, Adam. I'm staying with you.”

Adam is speechless for long seconds, looking at him with enough wonder to pull at Blake’s heartstrings until he can hardly breathe.

Not being taken for granted is exactly what Blake needs. He knows he made the right choice right then.

He kisses Adam until their lips are numb, savoring the slow burn of arousal in his lower belly. His hips are still and so are Adam’s but they’re panting and hard by the time Blake decides it’s time to get some shuteye.

***

He’s kissing Adam’s shoulder blades, making sure his stubble leaves the ghost of a good burn behind when the smaller man stirs and cants his hips up with a sigh.

“You sure?” Blake asks. He’d be happy just rutting between Adam’s thighs and leaving hickeys all over his back, “We don’t have to, y’know.”

He’s too aware of how far Adam will go to give him what he wants to assume having sex the morning after of Blake practically assaulting him would be anything close to okay.

The memory of the previous night makes his stomach churn but he’s not surprised he was that blinded by his own needs; he’d been chasing to forget Miranda’s words too hard by getting drunk on dominating Adam to realize what was going on.

It’s a mistake he’s not planning on making again.

Knowing he has Adam’s complete trust—that Adam loves him to the point of desperation, the courageous side of him whispers in the back of his mind—had been enough to pacify him.

Control isn’t half as sweet as devotion, he knows that now.

His dick has other ideas, however, and he hopes his little lover won’t mind the country singer using him for a quick, perfunctory release before getting out of bed.

He kneads Adam’s shoulders with his hands as he keeps humping him, trying his best not to demand anything but this from him.

“Not a scene, darling,” he reminds Adam, his voice nothing but a grumble, syllables wrecked with pleasure, “Just—just let me—“

Adam moans, straightening to support his weight on his knees and elbows. His ass is in the air now, a plain offer for Blake to do as he pleases, and as if that wasn’t enough the guitarist reaches back and sticks his own fingers up his entrance. They’re shiny with saliva up to his wrist and apparently Blake is still half-asleep; he didn’t even notice Adam licking them.

Two fingers go in easily. Adam thrusts them as far as they can go and Blake’s breath catches when the perfect body in front of him shudders in ecstasy, a keen announcing loud and clear Adam reached the sweet spot inside him that Blake likes to barge into until Adam spurts with not even a hand on him and with Blake's name rushing past his lips like a cry after a punch.

“Want you,” Adam murmurs, looking over his shoulder with half-lidded eyes dark with desire, “Please, sir, tell me what to do.”

Blake’s dick twitches almost painfully, his chest constricting with something too overwhelming to acknowledge.

He can’t believe Adam is willing to give this to him, can’t believe Adam knows his own needs so intimately there’s not a doubt in his mind that Blake still needs this even though he hasn’t asked for it.

He peppers the side of Adam’s neck with frantic kisses and lifts his hands from the mattress to open and squirt lube onto his dick. It’s cold enough to make him hiss but he’s too worked up to care. He needs to be inside Adam _now_ and doesn’t need more permission to do so.

He grips Adam’s hips and pulls him an inch towards him, positioning him exactly like he wants. He keeps a hand on him and uses the other to grasp the base of his length as the tip teases Adam’s rim and both gasp in anticipation.

“Fuck yourself on my dick,” he instructs, trembling with the effort of not just doing it himself, “Show me how much you want me, baby. I wanna see you, wanna hear you.”

Adam doesn’t need more direction or prep. His hips push back in precisely the right angle and Blake finds himself surrounded tightly and completely by him. It only takes a couple of shallow thrusts for the lube to warm in Adam’s heat and the slick in-and-out of his body to be all the more satisfying.

Blake watches, entranced, as Adam’s back ripples and arches and makes his length disappear inside of him, the lovely dimples above the rich curve of his buttocks deeper when he presses his ass against Blake’s groin. The hand that isn’t secured on Adam's hip traces the alluring outline of his spine over and over again, his palm sliding on Adam’s sweaty skin as his beautiful lover gradually picks up rhythm.

Adam makes noises for him that Blake knows in his bones he’s never made for anybody else. It’s the best feeling in the world; the pleasure seems to light up inside him, makes him hot all over, his hips losing the battle against his will and rocking into Adam in short, instinctive shoves.

“Harder,” he grunts, panting, his hand grasping Adam’s shoulder to pull him back forcefully one time to show him how he wants it and what exactly he’s missing while Blake remains mostly unmoving, “Faster. C’mon, my baby. You can do better. Show me.”  
Adam cries out loud enough for his voice to break, limbs shuddering with the effort of propelling himself back. “Yes! Yes— _yessir_.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Blake to lose it after Adam complies so perfectly, tugging and clamping around his cock just right. He bends over him, whispering husky praise to his ear and keeping their hips flushed together with a firm arm, grinding against him for a brief moment before adopting a relentless, frenzied pace that has them both skittering up the bed.

Adam keeps pushing back, meeting his every thrust even after screaming through orgasm and going plaint and shaky beneath Blake, head lolling between his shoulders. That’s what brings him over the edge; how his lover gives every last bit of what he has to Blake even when he doesn't have to, even when he hardly has anything else left.

He pulls out with a squelchy, obscene sound that has his member twitching in valiant if exhausted interest. Adam spreads his legs wider to let him watch his seed drip out of him, coating his sack in stripes of glassy white.

“Amazing,” he breathes out, nerve-endings everywhere on his body still tingling with the force of his climax. He’s tempted to simply collapse on top of Adam and he does just that, playfully dragging his soft length on Adam’s wet crack, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

He kisses Adam’s nape and nips the spot beneath his ear to drive his point home. Adam arches, pressing snugly against him, and moans wantonly when Blake’s glans catches on his rim.

The younger man is already half-hard. Blake is impressed and incredibly pleased.

“Gorgeous,” he compliments, manhandling Adam to lie on his side on the mattress and lifting one of his legs for his fingers to breach him easier, “You’re gonna come on just my fingers now.”

When he starts fingering him roughly, Adam whines but pushes into his hand. He’s flushed all the way down to his chest, skin shiny with sweat, and every muscle in his body tightens as Blake stimulates his prostate, riding that thin line between pain and pleasure that gives them both the biggest thrill when they’re together.

Adam must be oversensitive and sore but he still wants this, still wants _him_. There’s not a smidgen of hesitation in his unfocused eyes, already half-way to subspace, and his mouth is open in an almost continuous whimpering sound that goes straight to the burn in Blake’s groin.

He’s going to get hard enough to pound Adam again soon, can feel the blood rushing down his body with a speed that’s almost dizzying. Adam works magic in his body like that, makes him feel like he’s twenty again and has to have sex three times a day or he’ll die of starvation.

He rips another orgasm out of Adam with three blunt fingers, watches the shots of come coat Adam’s flat belly while he practically sobs with it, lyng on his back on the sticky mess he made of the sheets.

Blake leaves one finger in him when he enters Adam again.

Adam jerks feebly at the intrusion, hisses and moans at the added stretch but throws his legs over Blake’s shoulders in encouragement. Blake bends him in half, groaning as his hips piston into him again, and almost fucking loses it just like that at the exquisite reminder of just how small Adam feels against him, his broad frame swallowing him whole and his weight threatening with crushing him as he drives into his quivering, used hole.

Adam’s fists twist in the sheets, his breathing a tantalizing litany of _ah-ah_ ’s and Blake pins his wrists over his head, his other hand withdrawing from Adam’s body to lean on the mattress and increase the momentum of his hips.

Adam comes dry this time and goes utterly limp. Blake chases his own release inside him, finding it a couple of minutes later with Adam’s body still clenching around him. He doesn’t pull out this time, letting Adam’s inner muscles milk him for all he’s worth.

He pants against Adam’s collarbone, spent. When he looks up at Adam, his eyes are open but hazy, his cheeks pink and warm when he noses them, his breathing slow and deep as if he’s already asleep. Knowing he did that to the rock star would be enough to get him going again if it were physically possible.

(And it will be, in a while).

Blake’s head feels clearer than it has in days. He can’t deny that the deep satisfaction coursing through him isn’t only sexual, isn't only because of the dynamics they're still exploring together.

It’s the first time feeling this way doesn’t scare the shit out of him.

He kisses Adam’s nose and gently coaxes his legs down, rearranging them around his hips, and bears down on him as he entwines their fingers on the pillow beneath Adam’s head.

He looks at the man who’s snagged his heart without permission.

It’s the first time he doesn’t want it back.


End file.
